


wheels and wheels

by Runespoor



Category: Magical Diary
Genre: Damien route, F/M, Gen, sophomore year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:58:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5227799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runespoor/pseuds/Runespoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophomore year promises to be an exercise in juggling priorities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Wheels and wheels, hatchling. If you're going to play his game, you'd better learn to think ahead." - Petunia Potsdam.

It's next year, and the air is full of the golden, melting sun of the end of August. The first of September falls on a Monday, this year, and this means your parents cut their vacation short to bring you here. “We've seen you so little this year,” your father sighs. “But, nothing doing, if your school says the 31th of August, then the 31th of August it is!”

“Don't forget to write,” your mother tells you, and you don't reply that she's the one at risk of forgetting. You don't like to joke about that.

The school grounds haven't changed; still flowery, still as classical for a boarding school as you can imagine. The only thing that's changed is you. You know where Horse Hall is this year. No need for you to rummage frantically through your pockets.

The hallway's familiar and new all at once, smells like clean and wax. You see a girl you don't know biting on her lip as she counts the doors. “Don't worry, bathroom's big enough,” you say as you pass her by, just in case she's making the same mental calculations you were doing a year ago. She jumps and you hear her murmured thanks, and you wave that it's alright at her. If your roommates aren’t here yet, maybe you'll come back and help her get settled, be a good upperclasswoman – do sophomores count as upperclassmen? Technically?

But the door to your room's open, and when you enter, Ellen's blonde hair lifts to look up at you.

“Oh, hi! I thought it must be you, I couldn't imagine Virginia coming back to help.”

That explains the massive pile of luggage atop Virginia's bed. Apparently her mother couldn't be convinced to put her things away this year.

“Oh, she's here too?”

“Yes – we – actually I spent the last two weeks at her house. So we all came together, Donald too.” Ellen's blushing as she explains.

“And you got a new haircut! It suits you great.”

It does. She's got a pixie cut, nothing behind which she can hide – the way Ellen sometimes did, last year, letting her hair fall in front of her eyes and grinding her teeth. It makes her eyes look huge, and brings her dimples out. “You think? I'm glad, I was nervous...”

“Pfft, you're a cutie,” you say, with a vast wave of the hand. “Didn't Donald tell you?”

Ellen smiles. “Of course, but he's not exactly objective.”

“Why would you date a boy who _doesn't_ tell you you're the cutest thing this side of the moon?”

“You tell us,” Virginia says from behind you. “Though I still don’t get how you can be dating _Donald_ either, Ellen, so clearly I’m missing part of the logic here.”

“Virginia!” Ellen startles, and chides. Her eyes are huge and disapproving.

You move out of the doorway to find Virginia grinning at you.

You smile back at her. “You look good. Good vacation?”

“Pretty good, yeah. We went to San Fran for a month, William’s been accepted in a half-and-half program with Otherworld, and I got him to promise me he’d show me around Otherworld when I’m of age. Then we went home and that was okay too, plenty of people as usual – oh my god, we had Kyo Katsura over for two days, and it was _so awkward_! I heard his mom tell my mom he’d almost got expelled this year, and she couldn’t believe it because he’d always been such a sweet boy and she wanted a word with Jacob’s dads and that’s why she’d dragged them – Kyo and her I mean – all the way down from Toronto, I didn’t even know Kyo was from Canada, and I don’t know how _that_ ended because I would’ve had to ask _Jacob_. And then _this_ nerd-” cheerful wave in Ellen’s direction “-came over for the past two weeks, and I think she cast a spell when I wasn’t paying attention or something, because Donald was almost a human being while she was there. I mean, sometimes it was like he’d been the one who invited her to come over, but she had us play _board games_ , _twice_ , and he didn’t ruin the evening by being an obnoxious jerk?”

By this time your giggles have turned into full-on laughter, and Ellen’s biting her lip but she can’t keep the smile off her face.

“Well you haven’t changed,” you manage between two giggles.

“I could’ve told you that,” Virginia says, smiling. “You have, though. I mean, you look good.”

“You do look like the summer’s been good for you,” Ellen agrees. Her heart’s in her eyes as always, and she sounds so relieved. You hadn’t noticed last April how worried they were about you, except for that one conversation about the rumors of Damien’s return.

“It was restful,” you say easily, because that’s not a lie. There were no exams or demerits at home, or wards around your house, or reasons to hide the mail you were getting. You could just rest, and wait, and think. “I’m glad to be back, though.” And that’s not a lie, either.

“Good, ‘cause we were thinking – well, sometimes wildseeds don’t come back.” Virginia’s eyes are crinkled in discomfort. The last half sounds like an excuse, almost.

It’s obvious, the cause for their concern. Virginia spelled it out with full words in your yearbook last year, and it hasn’t vanished over the summer. Funny: you thought it would. But then, you may not be as close to your roommates as they are, they’re still your friends. They want what’s best for you, you’ve known that for a while.

“Not happening before I’ve graduated,” you tell them, and only smile when you’re done. 

It sounds serious enough that it reassures them, and they don’t dig further. You need your space, or they don’t know what to ask, or they don’t want to know more than they do. 

Or it’s over, clearly, and they don’t want to remind you of it.

You play catch up for the next few minutes, explaining how you and your parents spent two weeks with your mother’s parents and how displeased your grandma had been when she’d heard about all the Christmas stuff going on at her grand-daughter’s school and admitting that you thought she was making a big fuss but she kinda had a point. You’ve started to unpack at this point, watching with interest Virginia bribe Ellen into unpacking her stuff with the promise to get her the skull-and-flames T-shirt of some metal band you definitely wouldn’t have pegged as Ellen’s thing, so Virginia’s plopped on her bed chatting, and Ellen’s being twice as efficient as you despite having twice as many things to do. 

Virginia’s telling you about what William wrote her about Otherworld; you listen with interest, as the school library’s selection of book – being what it was – didn’t cover travelogues or studies to the Otherworld, and you couldn’t exactly find relevant books on the subject in the ordinary world. As Virginia’s the one telling the story, and a second-hand account at that, you can't quite make the difference between embellishment and truth, even with Ellen’s attempts to keep her on track, but it’s an entertaining tale all the same.

You put your stationary paper on your desk, and your school agenda over it, and finally you turn toward the others.

“I’m famished, guys, how about we get dinner and finish later?”

Virginia agrees to the plan with enthusiasm, you knew she would, and the room’s tidy enough for Ellen’s exacting standards that she lets herself be dragged away.

You lock the door tightly when you go. The school year’s not begun yet, but Kyo was only _almost_ expelled last year. A full summer of brooding might have made him realize he went after the wrong person when he thought Jacob was the one being his public humiliation; and you have all of Damien’s letters in a neat pile between your agenda and your stationary paper. 

Just folded, not disguised. Concealing spells would only attract suspicion. Besides, Damien still uses the same key, tied to your touch. After a few minutes out of your hands, the words vanish, as though they'd never been there. Not quite hidden, not quite in plain sight. 

Discreet. 

The best of both worlds.


	2. Chapter 2

“That’s a pretty ring, I didn’t think it was your style. Is it new?” You realize you’ve been toying with it since you were done eating. Once upon a time, you’d have been tearing a paper napkin, or annoying the small skins near your nails ‘til they bled, or tapping a pencil against a desk until Ellen reminded you very gently she found the noise annoying. 

You raise your hand, spread your fingers a little so the ring catches the light and shines. It’d be odd if you didn’t, and you do like the way it looks on your finger. “It was a gift. My parents were so proud with my finishing my first year at boarding school.”

That’s not a lie, either. Both things are true, if unrelated.

“Oh,” Ellen says, and pushes her salad around. 

Guilt wars with your relief at Ellen buying your explanation without comment. You assume summer vacation didn’t relax Ellen’s relationship with her family. That explains why she spent part of it with Virginia’s, too.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Virginia says with her mouth full, before swallowing and pointing her fork at Ellen. “Your family are jerks and that’s that.”

“That’s—“ not helpful, you start to say, but then you realize Ellen’s smiling. 

“Heh. Let’s say you’re right.”

Virginia’s dreadlocks bounce with her decisive nod. “Good. With that settled – are you going to eat your dessert?”

“You can have it,” Ellen says, standing up. “Guys, I’m sorry, I have to see Grabiner on treasurer business.”

“Already? But classes haven’t even started yet!” 

She lets out a deep sigh. “Since when has treasurer business waited for sensible hours?”

“So,” Virginia says when she’s swallowed her first mouthful of Ellen’s chocolate cream, “y’think she’s going to run for a student council position again, or she’ had enough?”

On the one hand, it’s pretty hard to imagine Ellen without the responsibilities; on the other, her parting words show the memory of last year’s early Saturday mornings didn’t fade much during the holidays. 

“I think she might have had enough of the treasurer hours, but I guess she might run for president. It depends on what Minnie does, though.” 

You’re pretty sure you’re not the only one who’d vote for Minnie again. If Ellen wasn’t your friend, you wouldn’t hesitate. She must know that. Besides, last year she ran because the campaign gave her a chance to be closer to William. This year student council activities would intrude upon her time with Donald. Chorale, sports club, her treasurer responsibilities, not to mention the fact that Ellen’s one of the best and most serious students in your year, and she found the time to find a boyfriend – you have no idea how she managed.

“We’re sophomores, there are more positions than president and treasurer this year,” Virginia says. “You can also be secretary.”

“What does the secretary do?”

“You ask _me_?”

“You know all sorts of things about the student council,” you point out.

“Only because of William.” She holds out for a good handful of seconds, but finally breaks down. “…Okay, he was secretary his sophomore year. It’s good preparation for running for prez in junior year, builds up the voters’ trust. The secretary and the president work close together; that’s how Angela and he ended up dating. So it’s not _less_ work than president, and that’s all I need to know to know I’m not running.”

“Sort of like Jacob was doing last year.”

She starts to shrug, then her shoulders clench and her eyes narrow. “You’re totally right. He’s going to run for that this year. I know it. He’s going to be _insufferable_ if he’s elected. You know he is.”

“He might have grown up since last year,” you say, in the spirit of fairness. After all, you certainly did.

The look she sends you is deep and unamused. “He lives two streets away from me. I think if he’d grown up I’d be one of the first to know. Besides,” she add, “Jacob’s problem isn’t that he’s immature. It’s that he’s a jerk.”

Well, she’s got you there.

Her expression has turned measuring, as you knew it would, and her next words are exactly what you thought they’d be. “Are you interested in running?”

“I’ve seen Ellen wake up at five _every Saturday_ too,” you remind her.

“Too bad,” she mutters. “So _you’re_ still useless, and _I_ need to recruit someone to run against Jacob.”

This conversation is giving you enough flashbacks that you’re starting to consider Grabiner popped a surprise exam on you. You reach for your Truesight, check that apart from a Falcon concealing unfortunate acne, there’s no sign of an illusion anywhere in the cafeteria, ignore Virginia’s expression that clearly calls you a weirdo, and pick up your tray. “Why don’t you run yourself, if you want to beat him so much?”

“Cause I’m lazy,” she tells you without missing a beat, supremely unbothered as she follows you to put her tray away. “And I’d do a shit job.”

“You’d have the motivation, at least,” you muse. “Maybe not to do it, but at least to _get_ it.”

She looks at you like she can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Maybe I’d just have to point out Jacob’s dejected face to you every two or three days to keep you on track. I know,” you say in an inspired tone, “let’s look for him right now, tell him you’re the competition! Can you picture how constipated he’ll look? You’ll march to Potsdam’s office to announce you’re running right after, I just know.”

Long, silent seconds tick by as she stares at you. Finally she burst out laughing. The sound makes the only other people around look at you, but they’re Toads, so you don’t mind, even if they do huddle significantly closer together afterwards. 

You pat Virginia on the arm while she attempts to get her breath back.

“That was a good one,” she finally says, wiping mirthful wetness from her lashes. “Oh man.”

You let it drop all the way back to the room. When she takes in her still-open suitcase (Ellen only left Virginia’s bathroom products), and groans, you say, “You sure you don’t want to go see Jacob and gloat about your future seat in the student council instead?”

Later that night, after you’re in bed and Ellen’s finally stopped tossing and turning, you find yourself pulled in reminiscences again.

The evening before classes, last year. The classes themselves. You don’t have orientation this year; will you even have a meeting with Potsdam or Grabiner – or maybe even one of the teachers you only know by sight, with Virginia explaining they teach the upper classes? (even though you still haven’t settled whether sophomores technically count as upperclassmen.)

There’ll probably be new classes. That’s good. Ellen kind of had a point when she raged that the school isn’t giving you a background on _anything_ before it’s too late already. Last year, you came pretty damn close to invoking Spirit Sight at the Dark Dance – thankfully you didn’t, but if Potsdam had bothered saying something of the spirits there and what they did and didn’t consider acceptable beforehand, you would’ve known already it was be a bad idea.

Not to mention that all the lies Damien fed you about being a changeling might have been dispelled at once if the school had actually bothered to school you on the society you now live in. 

Thinking of Damien makes your fingers seize, and you realize you were toying with the ring, again. The pads of your fingers feel tender where they’ve been rubbing against the gold stubs symbolizing thorns. That ring…

You lift your hand to look at it critically. You promised yourself, back home, that you wouldn’t spend all your time wallowing about him; it’d make him too happy if he knew. And, well. Your boyfriend isn’t a nice person. Yes he loves you, yes he wants to be yours. But. He likes to play games. You’ve been thinking, if you want to keep him, instead of—the other way around—

Potsdam’s playing games, too. With him of course – which he told you, but he’s such a liar. With you, when she let you know that she knew. When she told you to arm yourself. She’s got her own agenda, and you’d bet anything she reached out for you for reasons of her own, but she was right. She just made you realize that you’ve been arming yourself since you emerged from meditating in the gym after last year’s Easter holidays.

But he’s not here, and whatever the ring does – and there’s _got_ to be charms on it, that what you’d do if you were Damien. Or if you were to send a gift to Damien. – it doesn’t let him into your thoughts. You’d have got a lot more interested letters or visits in the flesh, if he could. …that train of thought leads to nothing but cold showers, best stop right there.

Contemplating the ring isn’t wallowing about Damien, though.

You don’t mind the charmed part. You mind, a bit, that he didn’t tell you. Damien’s games, which left you half-dead once. At the same time it fills you with thrills of perverse pleasure. It’s—once you’d never have guessed. Now you’ve cast a sealing charm on it, so if people try to see if it’s enchanted, you can tell them you were afraid it might break. 

What you do mind is that Ellen’s right, the ring’s not your style. It’s a lovely thing, shiny and delicately sophisticated. The ring of a Butterfly; like that senior Damien described to you, long dark hair like a waterfall and a tiara with color-changing flowers. On you, it reminds you of the fake princess jewelry you wore when you were six, a little girl playing dress-up. _I’m a Horse, not a Butterfly_ , you reminded Damien after you punched him. Maybe he needs the reminder again.

You fall asleep with your thumb rubbing softly on warm metal.


End file.
